Hatred of the World
by Black-Lyra
Summary: Humanity had destroyed their own savior, and must now pay the consequences. Now beneath contempt and unworthy of feeling his rage, Zim brings the final Endgame upon them. Hate/Rivalry of an interesting sort. Plenty of indirect character death and destruction. Second perspective added.
1. Victory?

**Hatred of the World**

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**Theme Song: **_Zack Hemsey, "Empty Room"_

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_~~~ "Hate is a strong word, and people say you shouldn't use it. But that's precisely why I do, because only a strong and unmistakable word like hate can clearly describe how I feel about you." ~~~_

'_A their core, humans really are such disgustingly pitiful creatures, aren't they?'_

The green-skinned alien was sprawled lazily in his thick chair, his fingers trailing lazily across the blinking lights on his console with a strangely detached fascination, barely even paying the slightest attention to the glowing sphere outside the window in front of him as he rested in the comfort of his orbital space station high above the planet he watched.

The planet was dark and cold as the worldwide power outage cut the dominant race off of one of its most taken for granted resource: electricity. Orange spots flaring up across the once-blue world marked places where rioting and panic had broken out, causing cities to go up in flames and saving him the trouble of doing so himself. Hideous monsters were released onto the already devastated burning rock, both disgustedly grotesque and unexpected skulking silently through the crumbling streets, consuming any unfortunate human who just so happened to cross their path at the wrong time. It had been so easy... Snap a few strings and the tottering string puppet that this pig-like race was simply fell apart, tearing itself apart and feeding their own kind to the sharks without a moment's notice.

And yet, the only reason why it had escalated to this breaking point in the first place was because this HORRIBLE, disgusting race killed their only hope for salvation, and thus dooming themselves to oblivion.

These creatures deserved to die like the fools they were, screaming in this inferno he'd summoned.

But he couldn't bring himself to really hate their ugly, stink-filled hides anymore.

Not anymore, for the race of humanity was now beneath contempt and so utterly unworthy of a thing like hate. What else could he say about beings who had willingly signed their own death warrant? Who had thrown themselves into the pit of fire, ignoring the one voice that could have possibly saved them? Even if Zim really did still feel some aura of contempt for them, he was no longer aware of it, as the emotion was buried under the rage he felt to something long since gone.

'_You have to really care about something to be able to effectively hate it.'_

Perhaps this was true, because it was only his mission that convinced Zim to destroy this pathetic world instead of letting this suicidal race do it themselves. He set free his monsters and experiments upon the planet's surface and eliminated a few power sources and the dirtball called Earth started to crumble with ease. No one left could stop him. No one knew how he worked or the methods to be employed.

The only one who paid close attention was no longer around to stop this intense catastrophe. And thanks to those useless scumbags, He wasn't going to be coming back this time to turn it around.

Zim realized this was no reason to celebrate.

The human he despised beyond anything else on this filthy planet was the only enemy he had to face him, and the alien hadn't even been able to deliver the final blow personally. He had accomplished his mission at last and yet at the same time, he had also lost eternally. Because now he would never get the chance to defeat his opponent for good or shove his victory in that boy's face. Dib was beyond reach.

Of course the boy had hated him too, so there was no denying that little detail. They made each other's lives a living hell more than once. Where each had their own conflicting plans for the future, blood was destined to be spilled. He couldn't even count how often they had traded blows, bruised black and blue on one side while the other nursed the wounds from Earth's acidic water, maintaining that steady glare.

Zim had never quite made up his mind of what to do with him when he stood victorious above Earth with this conquest completed. Wasn't sure and always jumped back and forth depending on his mood and how infuriated with that human he was at the time. Whether he wanted to kill him, experiment on him, torture him or enslave him...Zim never actually knew for certain.

Dib wasn't much of a pacifist either. He liked to remind the Invader every now and then with a dramatic taunt, of how he was planning on taking Zim apart, piece by piece at the first opportunity.

Maybe that was part of the thrill of fighting Dib; the fact that he could entertain so many horrible ways to break him in the end, and the knowledge that his own life was on the line that made it even more exciting. No matter how much of a hassle it could be at times to clean out the spy cameras in his base.

But now in the Endgame it no longer meant anything, because he was winning without a true victory.

It was conquering without defeating anything.

It felt like such a boring, meaningless way to bring this long-suffering mission to a close.

And yet, at the same time, he hated that boy for an entirely different reason.

Zim despised being bound to this emotion, bordering on desperation to wanting to leave behind all trace of this world he thought so little of, but also knew that the memories would never completely fade. There was no way to abandon it, because he had become so accustomed to his rivalry that the fight was ingrained into his mind forever.

It didn't make the slightest bit of sense. The amount of time spend on that dirtball was an insignificant fraction when compared to the life he'd lived so far. And yet, Earth had changed Zim in a way that could not be undone. His clawed digits itched relentlessly, wanting to fight and combat someone that no longer existed, and threw his gaze all around the space station with some unconscious and refined need to have something—anything—step forward to defend the planet he was burning to ash. Something had to resist, to fight back and—even perhaps—to succeed to draw the deadly game out even longer.

But there was nothing but silence, and Zim slouched in his seat, staring listlessly at the monitor once more, crimson eyes dulled. With one forced yet quiet breath and gaze fixed on the faraway infernos that had once filled him with such terrible ecstasy, he addressed the missing party with a voice tinted a confusing mixture of venomous distaste and the spark of distant nostalgia.

"_I can't stop hating you, Dib._

_I hate you for your resisting._

_I hate you for being such a worthy rival._

_And...I hate you for being unable to withstand the hatred of the world."_

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_(A/N): I was feeling grim, so much. And I thought the world being destroyed was a good way to write it out. This is for all of you rivalry fans out there.  
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	2. Failure?

_**Failure of the World**_

_(A/N): I wanted to tell someone else's side of the story and thanks to the paranormal context in this universe, I realized that this is completely possible to do. If anyone wanted it to end on the last chapter, feel free to not read this.  
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_-"A folded flag, a purple heart. A family all but torn apart! And I fought with courage to preserve, not my way of life, but yours! Carry on, don't mind me. All I gave was everything, and yet you ask me for more. Fought your fight. Bought your lie. And in return, I lost my life. What purpose does this serve?" –Rise Against, Survivor's Guilt_

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The wraith saw it all, he always did.

He could always catch onto details that others missed or completely ignored without any real problems, but whether or not it was intelligence or just a pure talent of perceiving the truth had escaped him. Even discounting the existence of the supernatural or the bizarre, the sheer number of inconsistencies clogging up this world was enormous. What person aware of these things wouldn't question them? Who wouldn't stand up and ask why things were the way they were? Maybe if someone else had spoken up sooner, seen what he'd seen, this scenario would have never even come to pass.

They had torn themselves apart, driven like dogs to tear and rip each other to shreds. Humanity reduced to rabid animals motivated by nothing more than a combination of mad fear and survival instincts. First they had destroyed the one trying to help them and now they turned on each other. What happened to human compassion? To dreams and beliefs? Companionship? ...Love?

In a horrible and twisted kind of way, the ghost on the sidelines was far more human than they were.

The last enlightened human of a doomed planet watched the world he both loved and hated burning, caught between regret, despair and cold fury. No one could see him anymore. No one could hear him anymore. Between life and death, caught in a limbo of purgatorial wandering, Dib was alone.

Watching them die and kill was unreal, breaking certain beliefs while solidifying others. All of them...were just traitors and monsters just waiting for death, stewing the results of the seeds they'd sown. Dib despised them, but he was still compelled to step forward to help them. To save these diseased children of Earth from themselves, even now that he had no presence in their eyes. A mantra teased on the edge of his battered mind, mocking the fact that even after the end and when it was his own race who murdered him so shamelessly, Dib still truly desired to be their hero.

_Even if they never deserved it. It's a thankless job, but...someone had to stand up..._

_I guess it's true then...the one nail that sticks out gets hammered down. _

Drawn to a presence that fed the fires of the only bitter emotions he dared to himself feel, he followed it to the sky, where the alien satellite and its empty pilot watched impassively the end result of his conquest of the little blue planet. Dib walked without thought soundlessly, the transparent whiteness of his figure floating like a specter of death as he considered his one true enemy.

_I hate you..._

The wraith placed his hands around the Zim's neck, fingers curled into claws with the need to hurt him and exact revenge—justice—for what was done to his home, but the alien remained unaware and unfeeling. Dib's hands possessed no substance to the living; he may as well have not been there at all. Still he continued to squeeze at nothing, venting to nothing and no one. He wanted to scream in rage at the top of the lungs that he no longer possessed, but no one would be able to hear him anyway.

_I hate you!_

Shaking and trembling, Dib drew back, pulling his ethereal hands from the enemy before him. Dib knew much of the dead, studied them with a fascination and passion that now seemed so painfully ironic, and his racing mind could come up with numerous reasons why his actions hadn't the slightest effect. He had no "unfinished business," or task that could be done now that Earth was no more, nothing to interact with anymore. What he possessed was hatred.

Hatred that let him continue staring into those scarlet eyes that made him want to do something incredibly violent, and in the process making those emotions grow ever stronger and shackle him to this broken method of half living. It was an endless cycle of undeath and for some demented reason, Dib saw no reason to try to break it down. The helpless sense of despair and pity for his fellow humans was buried under a ferocious wave of anger and stinging bitterness that kept him with the desire to share his feelings with another. He couldn't allow Zim to be happy and content in his victory, not while his mind continued to exist. If Dib had to be trapped in this prison of hate, then his enemy MUST be made to feel the same. If he could not obtain the chance to be at rest, then neither would Zim.

The lenses of Dib's glasses glowed like twin moons as he gave his nemesis that judgmental stare that could no longer be returned in kind. Because he wanted to be acknowledged by Zim, especially if he got the chance to tell him just how much he wanted to tear the destructive alien apart.

Suddenly, Zim whipped around, staring into the confines of his ship as if in search of something. At first, Dib thought that the alien had seen him, but the feelings was rather short-lived when he caught the clear aura of disappointment present in those huge, foreign eyes as he faced the monitor once more. Zim didn't see him, but he wanted him to be there.

Interested despite himself, Dib wished again to see deep inside this creature, but in the psychological sense instead of with sharp, cutting instruments like normally did. Placing his unseen hands on the alien's shoulders, the human leaned forward so that he could catch the nearly silent words of hatred and the trace of forced respect escaping from Zim's mouth.

A thrill coursed through the body formed from the ether in response, the dark anti-matter of the dead vibrated to a fever pitch in excitement of what those words meant. The foggy, pale whiteness of the specter darkened to black smoke, still unknown to the living. However, the coldness the angry wraith emanated was now real. The room instantly lost several degrees of warmth and Zim shivered, his clawed hands finding his shoulders as he contained his body temperature. A victorious smirk found its way to Dib's lips and he paused to whisper one more piece of knowledge into his dropping antennae.

_I may not have won, Zim. But you will never win either._

Zim may not have heard the words or felt their meaning, but the chill seeping into his flesh made clear the fact that he would never escape from this hatred. The alien turned around slowly with widened eyes, staring viciously into the empty space station as the unseen rival glared him down once more.

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_(A/N): I have been writing lots of angst-filed stuff lately and I don't know why. I think the next one will the different though..._


End file.
